HYMN 1.-C. M.
ERUSALEM, my happy home,
O how I long for thee!
When will my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?
2 Thy walls are all of precious stone,
Most glorious to behold;
Thy gates are richly set with pearl,
Thy streets are pav'd with gold.
3 Thy garden and thy pleasant walks,
My study long have been;
Such dazzling views of human sight,
Have never yet been seen.
4 If heaven be thus so glorious, Lord,
Why should I stay from thence?
What folly's this that I should dread
To die and go from hence!
5 Reach down, O Lord, thine arm of And cause me to ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And Sabbaths never end.
6 Jesus, my Lord to glory's gone,
Him will I go and see;
And all my brethren here below,
Will soon come after me.
7 My friends I bid you all adieu, I leave in God's care,
And if I never more see you,
Go on, I'll meet you there.
8 When we've been there ten thousand
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise, Than when we first begun.
HYMN 2.-P. M.
S near to Calvary I pass,
A Methinks I see a bloody cross,
Where a poor victim hangs;
His flesh with rugged irons tore,
His limbs all dress'd in purple gore,
Gasping in dying pangs.
Surpris'd the spectacle to see,
I ask'd who can this victim be
In such exquisite pain?
Why thus consign'd to woes, I cried,
"Tis I," the bleeding Son replied,
"To save a world from sin."
3 Jesus for rebel mortals dies?
How can it be! my soul replies,
What! Jesus die for me?
"Yes," saith the suff'ring Son of God,
"I give my life, I spill my blood,
For thee, poor soul, for thee."
4 Lord, since thy life thou'st freely giv❜n,
To bring my wretched soul to heav'n,
And bless me with thy love,
Then at thy feet, O God, I'll fall,
Give thee my life, my soul, my all,
To reign with thee above.
HYMN 3.-P. M.
DARK and thorny, is the desert
Thro' which pilgrims make their way;
Yet beyond this vale of sorrow,
Lie the fields of endless day:
Fiends loud howling through the desert,
Make them tremble as they go,
And the fiery darts of Satan
Often bring their courage low.
20 young soldiers, are you weary Of the roughness of the way?
Does your strength begin to fail you?
And your vigor to decay?
Jesus, Jesus will go with you:
He will lead you to his throne;
He who dyed his garments for you,
And the wine-press trod alone.
3 He whose thunder shakes creation,
He who bids the planets roll:
He who rides upon the tempest,
And whose sceptre sways the whole:
Round him are ten thousand angels,
Ready to obey command,
They are always hovering round you,
Till you reach the heavenly land.
4 There on flow'ry hills of pleasure,
Lie the fields of endlest rest?
Love, and joy, and peace forever
Reign and triumph in your breast.
Who can paint the scenes of glory
Where the ransomed dwell on high;
There. on golden harps forever
Sound redemption through the sky.
5 There's a million flaming seraph's
Who fly across the heav'nly plain;
There they sing immortal praises;
Glory, glory, is their strain.
But methinks a sweeter concert
Makes the heavenly arches ring:
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